


Lost and found

by keepcalmanddonotblink, MashiarasDream



Series: Hello, Dean [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demon!Dean, How to save Dean Wichester, Hurt, M/M, What it means to be human, canon divergence after S9, fading!Cas, post s9, to feel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:21:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepcalmanddonotblink/pseuds/keepcalmanddonotblink, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashiarasDream/pseuds/MashiarasDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam found Dean. But it's not Dean anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the first story we wrote for this series, but the first for the matter of chronical order.

“I found Dean.” The words were one rush, no time to even add a greeting.  
Castiel’s stomach flopped and he sank back against the pillows, the short stunt at sitting upright more than what he’d managed for days. But now the reason he couldn’t keep himself upright was a whole different one. Where it had been a hopeless emptiness before, it was now relief. Pure and overwhelming. Castiel felt it all over his body and once again he noticed how human he was now, how little grace was left inside of him, how much he had changed.

Dean was alive after all. He really was alive. It was not his dead body that went missing, that someone stole somehow from the bunker. No, he was alive.  
Everything in him was radiating with joy and happiness.  
Sam had found him, he had found Dean. Dean was okay, everything was fine.

But of course nothing was _fine_.  
He could hear the pain in Sam's voice as he continued: “But he... he is not himself. Cas, he is... he is a demon. Not possessed. He is _literally_ a demon.”  
Cas was glad he was already propped against the pillows again, because this punch to his gut knocked all the air out of his lungs and he would have toppled over for sure. All this time he knew that something was wrong, and he knew the story of Cain just as well as any angel. This had always been a possibility, he had known that, but still he had hoped with every cell in his body that he was mistaken. 

But of course it was the worst case scenario that had come true.  
“The Mark of Cain.” Castiel stated without a question.  
“Yes. He was dead, Cas! And now he’s…” Sam's voice sounded broken, shattered, and Castiel wished he could do something, anything to help him. But as much as he wanted to deny it, not all of the sickness and emptiness had been Dean being gone. Most of it. But he’d gotten worse. He knew it with what little of his angelic powers was left, but much more with his human heart, that he was dying. Only, he hadn’t told Sam yet. Hadn’t told him that Castiel’s time and powers to help were limited. Most likely limited enough that he’d be more of a burden than a help.  
He grit his teeth against the thought. Whatever Dean said, he was not a baby in a trench-coat and he didn’t like the thought of being helpless.

“I already started to look into every book I could get on the mark, but it isn't like I haven't done that back when Dean first got if. Or that I’d find more now than before. I am out of options, Cas. I don't know what else to do.”  
Defeated. Resigned. Castiel could hear it in his voice, in the way he said this. And that wouldn’t do. Because Cas was running on borrowed time here and if they both gave up, where would that leave Dean? 

“Don't give up hope, Sam. We can do this.” His voice held more conviction than he felt. That made him feel the slightest bit better. He needed to hear these words as much as Sam did.  
Another sigh from the younger Winchester. “Yeah, I know. We will find a way. Like we always do... but you know, it's hard to have your brother in a devil’s trap and look at him and not recognize him anymore. It's like he is gone for good. But I also know that he is in there, somewhere, the real Dean.”

There was a tight feeling in his chest that made it hard to breathe for him and it felt like more than the burning out of the grace. He grunted and tried to rip his thoughts away from the pain. Castiel didn't want to think about it, he wanted these feelings to stop. Being an angel was so much simpler than being human. Being an angel was clear, having faith, following orders, no doubts and regrets. Yeah. That hadn’t worked out too well for him, had it? Because Dean had changed everything. He had changed him so profoundly that it had overruled every bit of angel programming.  
Castiel had indeed came way too close to the humans in his charge. 

“Sam... I... I am sorry. I wish I could help more. If I… I’ll let you know if I find anything”, he finally answered, while he tried to keep the truth hidden. That he couldn’t. That he couldn’t come to Sam’s rescue. Castiel would come apart if he saw Dean as a demon. That was a fact. And he couldn’t do that to Sam.  
“I know, thanks, Cas. I have to go now, Dean... or the demon... I have him tied up in the bunker. Maybe I can get information out of him.” Tired and exhausted. Castiel could tell without seeing Sam.  
“I will try to find something, Sam. You are not alone on this.” 

“I know. It's just...” there was an audible swallow on the other end of the line. “I miss him, Cas. I’m in there with him and…” Sam sounded positively spooked now, “I expect him to say ‘bitch’ and be normal and I’ve slipped and said ‘jerk’ to him and he just tried to…”, Sam stopped himself, obviously not wanting to delve into the memory. With a deep breath, he started anew: “I feel like I just can't keep going on like this. What else has to happen?” His voice sounded tiny and small and Castiel knew, that the sentence wasn’t meant for him. It was Dean who Sam wanted to lean on. Because as much as the brothers bitched at each other, Dean had always made sure of that. That he was there for Sam. Castiel felt more than sorry for him.

“You are strong, Sam. You can do this. Dean would want you to do this.”  
The last thing Sam needed right now was someone who told him that he felt just as broken and helpless without Dean to guide the way. Who felt just as hopeless about there ever being a moment of peace for them. And Castiel felt exactly the same. When would this ever end? When would they ever find a shred of peace and happiness? But maybe that was the price for freedom.  
Of course he said nothing of that out loud.  
Instead he tried to give Sam the reinsurance he needed to carry on: “We will figure it out. We will find a way. Like we always have.”

Sam immediately backtracked, his voice evening out, his feelings draining out of it. Like a soldier. Not as much as Dean or himself, but Sam, too, had gone through his father’s training and knew how to suck it up when he had to. “Yeah... you are right. I am sorry. I am just exhausted. Take care of yourself, okay?”  
“I will. You too Sam. And let me know if you find something.” Take care of himself. At this point, that was a joke. But if he told Sam now, he would probably try to save him, too. And there was too much on Sam’s shoulders already. Better to keep this hidden and battle with it alone.  
“Of course. Bye Cas. And thank you again.”  
“Bye, Sam. And thank you, too, for letting me know.”  
“No problem.”  
With that, Sam ended the call. 

For a while, Castiel just stared, eyes refusing to focus on any of the details of the dingy little room of his hideout. Having had Sam’s voice fill up his mind, the feeling of loneliness crushed him now where he had been almost content with the emptiness and slow dying before. Of course he could just call out to any angel for company. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t help. Gabe might have helped to cheer him up. But Gabe was dead. That left Hannah, Sam and Dean.

Hannah was busy with heaven, taking the leadership into her own hands as she should. He was sure she was doing a better job than he had. Sam had bigger problems on his shoulders and Dean... was a demon. He couldn’t wrap his mind around that, no matter how much sense it made. 

It’s not that he hadn’t seen him cold before. Dean might not remember the time, Castiel had raised him from perdition, but Castiel remembered. But still, even then, Dean’s soul had been bright. He had no idea how the demons in hell hadn’t been blinded by it. He sure had been. Still was. 

Though it was different now. It wasn’t just a blinding light. It was Dean’s hands smoothing over the collar of his shirt. It was Dean’s lopsided smile on the rare instances when the world was good and he was just happy at be around Castiel. It was the refusal to leave him behind in purgatory. The intense pain of an “I need you” in a crypt, where they should never have ended up if Castiel had only been better, had managed to see through heaven’s plans faster, had been less easy to manipulate, had only… He sighed.

It made no sense beating himself up over all of this. But it was a darkness and a hole inside him, the feeling that he had truly lost the one thing that – his thoughts stumbled on the word, but he didn’t know another word for it either - that he loved the most. 

He had told Sam he would look for a solution. But there was none. There was no known way to deal with the Mark of Cain. The Mark could be transferred, but only willingly. And he doubted, Dean would willingly give up this power. And even if he did, he’d still be a demon. That left killing the host. 

Only when he tasted blood did Castiel notice how hard the thought had made him bite down on his lip. After all they been through, that was what they got? That was their reward?  
“You are unfair”, the angel whispered into the air, even when he knew that his Father had long ago stopped listening. 

When Metatron had told him that Dean was dead, his mind had gone blank. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. But he saw the blood on the angel blade, he saw the look on his face, this stupid grin and he knew that Metatron wasn't lying. 

The pain back then was overwhelming and for the first time in his long life he felt what it meant to get his heart ripped apart. He had kept it together, millennia of being a soldier taking over where his conscious thoughts hadn’t allowed for anything but wanting to cry and sob in a corner. But the soldier in him wouldn't allow him to show Metatron how vulnerable he really was. 

_»To save one human. To save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right?«_  
He still could hear Metatron's voice in his ear, could still see himself hoping that Dean had made it. But of course, there was no break for them. He wasn’t good luck. Of course he had failed the one person that meant the most to him, the one that he couldn't lose. 

_»I’d rather have you. Cursed or not.«_  
This time he drew blood intentionally, just to keep from crying out.  
Dean wasn't dead. There was a glimmer of gratitude in him for that. But only a glimmer. Because Dean was a demon. An abomination. Something he should hunt down as he had for millennia before he ever met the Winchesters. But he knew he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He would turn against anyone who’d try to cut Dean down, no matter what. 

Because Dean was still in there, somewhere inside. He had to be. And he had raised him from perdition once. Had brought him back when torturing was all Dean could remember how to do. He’d fight for his soul now as he had fought for him then.  
“Give me strength, Father.” Another prayer into the void. Like an old habit he just couldn't break. “Give me strength to carry on. To find something. Anything. _Please._ ”

He didn’t expect an answer to his prayer and none came. It wasn’t how prayers to Father worked, anyway. But Father was gone. Nobody was listening. He needed to handle this on his own. But he was so weak, the grace inside burning him out so fast. Before Sam had called, he’d just been waiting. Waiting for this all to end, to finally find true peace. But with Dean alive, that wasn’t  
enough anymore. 

Only, the all-encompassing tiredness made it hard to think, frazzling his thoughts beyond his reach. Possibly, a little sleep would clear his mind. Or perhaps he would wake up and everything would have been just a bad dream…

He sighed. It was never just a bad dream and he knew it. But still, he slumped back on the bed and drew the comforter up. It wasn’t enough, though, so he laid his head on the other side of the bed, his face on the rougher plaid fabric that covered this side of the bed. Better. When he closed his eyes, the roughness of the fabric under his skin, he could almost see Dean smiling at him, could feel Dean hugging him, and could see all the things that had been and all things that now never would come.  
Black eyes and darkness that was what Dean was now. He bunched the plaid in his fist, holding on for dear life. Because he had lost Dean. He had lost him and he knew no way to get him back. 

A knock at the door woke him. Stiffly, Castiel got up while he wondered how long he had slept. Minutes? Hours? Days? He couldn't tell. He felt as if he hadn't slept at all. But his legs held him upright and his feet carried him forward. So there was that. He dragged himself to the door. There was only one person who knew where he was. Well, angel, not person, but he didn't care anymore. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. 

“Hannah.”  
The angel looked at him with a smile that suddenly fell. “Ehhh… Castiel... your bathrobe...”  
“Oh, apologies.” Hastily, he tied his bathrobe up. Angels don't feel embarrassment, so why had he felt Hannah’s stare in his whole body? How much grace was there left in him? He was so human now that it almost made no difference anymore.  
“It... it's okay. Human bodies are still... strange to me.” Hannah responded. “Can I come in?”  
“Yeah... yeah of course.” Castiel stepped to the side to let her in and closed the door behind her. 

Hannah looked around and regarded the room. It looked even shabbier when prim and proper Hannah stared at it. Castiel fidgeted from one foot to the other, desperate to find a diversion but drawing a blank. Short of opening his robe again, he had no idea what to do or say to distract her. And he was sure that wouldn’t do anything to make him feel less uncomfortable. He sighed. 

So many feelings, in so many shades. Confusing and weird to _feel_. Being an angel, so much easier. Then a stray thought of Dean fixing his tie and patting his shoulder snuck in, confusing even that thought. He was sure he didn’t want to feel this confused and uncomfortable, but he wasn’t sure he didn’t want to feel at all. 

Standing with her back to him, Hannah finally said quietly: “Your human has been seen.”  
There was no question who she meant.  
“And... he... he...” It seemed hard for her to say it, so Castiel just said it for her.  
“He is a demon. I know.” It hurt more to speak it out loud than it should. Dean shouldn't have the power to affect him in this way. Not now, not ever.  
But now it was too late, too late to say all the things he never said. All the things he had wanted to say, but never had the words for. Or the things he hadn’t even figured out until the pain of losing Dean for good had ripped him apart.  
“You know?” Hannah turned around and couldn't hide her surprise but she also seemed to be relieved. “Good. That's good I guess.” 

Castiel tried to smile, but even trying felt false. How could that be a good thing? How could anything that was happening right now be a good thing? His grace burning out, a Demon with the face of Dean Winchester, heaven in chaos. Everything was a mess and he had done his part in causing all of this. 

“He is killing angels. And demons. It seems like he doesn't care.” Hannah revealed and Castiel gasped.  
“Demons too?”  
“Yes, demons too but my concern is for our siblings. I hate to ask you, but I have no choice. I need you to help me find Dean Winchester. He has to be stopped.”

The words were lying heavy in the air. Castiel turned away from Hannah. It had been a long time since he had had to school his face into a blank mask and he was sure she’d be able to see right through him. He knew where Dean was, of course. Sam had told him as much. And he knew where the bunker was. 

But Hannah’s conclusion would be the same he had come to. That to kill the demon you had to kill the vessel, too. No. If it came to that, if that was the only thing that could be done, then it would be done. But it wouldn’t be Hannah or the angel squad who delivered the final blow. It would be family. 

Decision made, he turned around to her abruptly. “No. You can't ask me this. I would not tell you the location, even if I knew.” Implying that he didn’t, of course. He had gotten better at this whole lying thing. He probably shouldn’t be proud of that but the thought gave him a spark of warmth. He had learned it from Dean after all.

“Please, Castiel. Dean – the demon is out of control. I don’t even know if we will be able to stop him, but we at least have to try! Someone has to try! Don’t you remember what happened with the original Cain?” His normally so composed commander was barely holding herself together, her voice biting, both anger and fear loud and clear.  
“I am sorry, sister.” 

He wanted to brush past her to the kitchen, but she grasped a handful of the fabric of his bathrobe. He contemplated just slipping out of the thing, but thought better of it. So he stopped and turned back to her.  
Her eyes were sparkling with fury, but there was something else, too. A sense of hurt, of betrayal. Gut-wrenching and deep betrayal. 

“What is it with you and this _human_? He is just one _human_. You can't save him this time, Castiel. You know that. Why do others have to die for this? Why is he so important?”  
Of course. She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. She was an angel, always had been. She had never felt the things he felt. She wasn’t plagued by doubts, she was righteous and good. She had never had to choose between her Father and free will, choose freedom over fate. 

His voice had gone softer when he answered her: “You wouldn't understand.”  
It did nothing to calm her, though: “You are right, Castiel. I don't understand. Your grace is burning out and you are just sitting here and doing nothing.” She spat the last word, but if it was supposed to be an insult, it fell flat because she couldn’t hold his gaze when she continued: “I care for you, Castiel. I don't... I don't want to lose you. Please come back with me.”

His human instincts getting the better of him, he closed the short distance between them and laid a hand on her shoulder. It was a gesture of friendship more than one of a commander giving strength to his soldier. But she wasn’t his second in command anymore. Because he was no commander anymore. He sighed. 

“Hannah... I.. I am sorry. I will try to find something, okay. I promise.” It was the second time in one day that he made this promise, knowing that he wouldn’t. At least he didn’t have to add that he would tell her if he found anything, she would assume that he would. The lie was blatant enough as it was and he liked Hannah. He had never actually wanted to betray her. But now was not the time for qualms like these. And just their short conversation had tired him out again already. So if this promise got her to leave him alone, he’d take it. He needed to sleep some more. If he managed not to dream, all these feelings would go away. At least for a little while.

Hannah didn’t quite meet his eyes when she nodded. He had rejected her and she knew it. “Yes, Castiel. Thank you for that. If you…” she swallowed hard, “if you change our mind, or if you need something – anything – just call out for me. I’ll answer. Alright?”

He could see the hurt and while it was a composed reaction, it made Castiel feel guilty. He never set out to hurt anyone and he always ended up doing it anyway. “Thank you, Hannah. I appreciate it.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say he would take her up on the offer. He most likely wouldn’t. It was better for her not to get tangled up with him. And it was easier for him if he didn’t have to lie. 

Hannah nodded. “Please take care of yourself, Castiel. I will keep looking for Dean. I will tell you if I find anything. Or if I find anything about how to deal with the Mark. I will – I will visit you soon.”

She was gone before he had a chance to answer. Only then did Castiel realize that she had knocked at the door and not just zapped in for his sake. That she had explained herself for his sake. She was trying to be his friend when he was being a dick. He sent a prayer after her and hoped that she would hear it. “Thank you Hannah. I am glad that you care.”

Alone, the weight of being on his own crushed down on him again. It wasn’t just Dean. It was heaven, too. The outlines of wings where he had struck angels down. So many of them. Why anyone in heaven wanted him back, was beyond him. He had killed more their kind than Dean ever would. And Dean would kill more angels. Because Dean was demon. 

The realization hit him again and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. The room was too small, too  
crowded, the mold and the must were trying to choke him. He had to get out of here. He didn’t care where to, just somewhere else. Anywhere else.

His movements were erratic, too fast, too frantic for his weakened state but he sloughed through it, got rid of his bathrobe, pulled on his pants and shirt, gripped his beloved coat and slipped into his shoes before opening the door and stepping outside. The fresh air hit him and immediately his breathing calmed. There. That was a bit better at least.

Dusk was falling and lit the sky up in a hundred shades of red. It was beautiful. Or it would have been, if it didn’t look so much like blood. The blood in his veins and the blood on his hands. The blood of the ones he had slain. The blood of the ones he had seen as collateral damage. Blood everywhere.  
Every single thing he’d ever undertaken had ended in rivers of blood. So many dead. So many humans, so many angels and maybe he shouldn’t but he even counted the demons, the poor twisted souls. 

_»There is blood everywhere. And it is on your hands. «_  
Naomi had been right. It was on his hands and he would never be able to wash it off. He had made so many mistakes. Every time he had thought he was doing the right thing it had turned out to be wrong. 

But even with the sky, the fresh air helped and he felt calmer than he had. His car was still there in front of the little house he now called home, although it didn’t feel like it. It wasn’t meant to be, either. It was an indulgence on his part, maybe, but he still believed that his true home was somewhere else entirely. 

Without a second thought, he got into the car, turned on the engine and drove off.  
The stars came out by the time he had navigated out of the town and into the countryside. He took back roads, not caring where he was going. He had no place where he wanted to be. At least none that he could reach in a car. 

The darkening countryside rushed past him, trees alternating with fields. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders started to unwind as the scenery changed and yet stayed the same. He thought of Dean again.  
Of the way he loved his car. He hadn’t been driving alone with him often. Usually it was Sam who was riding shotgun and Castiel in the back. But the few occasions where it was just the two of them, they had settled into a comfortable silence as the miles rushed by. The constant motion lulled his thoughts, kept his senses focused on nothing but the road ahead. 

He understood why Dean loved driving. It pushed back the guilt and the helplessness and emptied his mind. He existed. And he was driving. That was it. Every tree, every field that he passed was already lying behind him. It didn't matter anymore. Every tree or field that was further than the next bend didn’t matter yet. It was a very small sliver of time and space that he actually had to handle and he could deal with that. 

Still, he couldn't stop thinking completely. Once in a while his mind wandered to Dean, to Sam, to heaven, to the past and a future that would most likely never come.  
A future where heaven was back in order, angels back to doing what they were supposed to do, protecting humankind.  
A future where hell was shut down and no soul had to suffer to get twisted into something so cruel. A future where he could be an angel and watch over the Winchesters, be their guardian as he was supposed to be. 

Where he could be with them in the bunker, watching all those movies Dean always was talking about, seeing for himself all the stuff Metatron had put into his mind.  
Where he would be laughing with the brothers, carelessly, feeling like he belonged there, feeling home and finally finding the courage to tell Dean.  
Where he found the words to tell him how the world had changed for him when he thought that he had lost Dean for good. 

What he had seen so many times, what he believed to know but he had no clue about until he felt it for himself. What it meant to want to be with someone. What it meant to love someone. It was a future of course, in which Dean wouldn’t reject him. In which he felt the same. 

With a jolt he turned his car to the side of the road when tears blurred his vision. Not even Crowley would be able to invent a torture more effective than what Castiel did to himself.  
“Dammit Dean”, he whispered softly. 

Darkness surrounded him and without the engine noise to keep him company, the world was silent. So alone. His heart ached to be with someone, to talk with someone. Someone who would understand. Someone who would feel the same pain. 

It was unfair. It was selfish. But he really only knew one person to go to. Only one person who was hit as hard by this as he was.  
And it wasn’t like Castiel was completely helpless. He had his knowledge still. Maybe he could help. Maybe he could find something in the books that Sam had overlooked. He was reaching, he knew. He was trying to justify it in his mind. 

But then, maybe it was okay to come as he was. Maybe it was time to tell Sam the truth about the state he was in. Maybe he could be there for him, too, if only for a little while. Maybe they could ease the pain for each other a little. It had to be better than nothing, right? 

Because right now, Sam was alone too. Alone in the bunker with a demon with the face of his brother.  
Castiel had made his decision. Determinedly, he wiped away his tears and turned his car around. It was a long way to Kansas.

###### 

Nobody opened the door when he knocked. And Sam wasn't picking up the phone, either. Perhaps he should have called sooner. He tried again but no answer. Not even voicemail. Castiel got worried. What if something had happened? What if Sam was hurt? He tried to open the door but of course it was locked. “Dammit”, he cursed and although he knew that it was risky to teleport in his condition, he saw no other choice. 

It was only a few inches, he could manage a few inches. He hoped. What could go wrong anyway? Well, Castiel could count at least twelve ways of how this could go wrong. But he hadn’t come all this way to let a stupid door get in his way. 

With a zap, he was in the bunker and stumbling forward. He willed his knees not to buckle. Even this short distance had drained his grace to the point where he just wanted to fall over. Weak, so weak, that was what he was. In the end, it wasn't the best idea he had had to come here, but now it was too late. He had to see Sam, he had to talk to him. He needed a friend, a friend who would understand him.

He looked around, still nobody to be seen. He ventured into the main hall. Books were piled high on  
the table, leaving only a small space with a notepad and a laptop next to one of the chairs. Sam’s research. He went around to the laptop. It was still on. Castiel’s forehead crinkled. Where was the younger Winchester?

Loud laughter sounded from the other side of the room. It echoed and got distorted in the cavern of the bunker, but the shiver that ran through Castiel had nothing to do with that. Slowly, ever so slowly, Cas turned in the direction the sound had come from. 

“Little brother! Sam! Come on, don’t you want to play some more?” the voice called out. “I know what you did, _Sammy_. Oh... you have so gone far to find me... you’ve done things… I really think we should ask ourselves who the monster is here.”  
“Dean! No!” a shout from Sam, then the crash of something hitting the wall and Castiel was running before he could make a conscious decision. 

“What's wrong little brother? Did you want to save me? Awww, thought you had gotten over this years ago. Remember purgatory? Where I actually needed saving? Where you didn’t do jackshit? But guess what? Now, I don't need _saving_.”  
Castiel froze when his eyes caught Dean. Sam was lying on the floor, Dean standing over him, ready to strike again any second. He willed his body to move. He had to do something. Anything. He couldn’t let Dean kill his brother. 

“No!” his scream startled himself and Dean looked up, directly into his eyes.  
It was Dean, but it wasn't. The demon's face was a mockery of the true image of Dean, the light and love drained out of it. Darkness was leaping all around him while his black eyes were widening at the sight of Castiel. Then the moment of surprise passed and a wide, atrocious grin spread across his face: “Oh, look, someone else came to save me. Isn’t everyone considerate today? How nice of you, _angel_.” 

The darkness swirling around Dean had Castiel’s gut twisted in anguish. He tried to see something, something beyond the demon. Just a spark of Dean’s soul would be enough. But there was nothing. He startled back to attention. He had to keep Dean occupied. He had to keep him away from Sam. “If you want to fight, fight me. Let Sam go.”

“Now, now. You are hurting my feelings. You are here for my brother? That’s a disappointment. I thought we shared the more profound bond?” the grin got even wider and Dean... the demon stepped closer to Castiel. That was good. Castiel had to keep him away from Sam who as he noticed had one arm in a sling. Why hadn't Sam told him that he was hurt? Why had he been hiding this from him? But then, Castiel hadn’t exactly been truthful about his own condition, so he was in no position to judge.

“You and I? No, you and I share nothing. Dean and I, we share a bond. You on the other hand, the Mark of Cain is all your essence now, it's controlling you. You’re just a reflection. A killer because the Mark makes you that. You are nothing without the Mark.” Castiel kept talking while carefully backing away one step at a time. He couldn’t risk to stumble now. But he had to draw Dean away from Sam. 

Another loud laugh, so false and shrill that it nearly hurt, erupted from Dean and Castiel had to clench his teeth to keep from wincing. 

“Now you’re just trying to make me mad, _angel_ ”, Dean stated, “but talking won't _help_ you.” 

With that Dean leapt at Castiel. Instinctively, he dodged the first strike but he already knew that he wouldn't be able to keep up for long in a fight. He was weak and he didn't stand a chance against the bearer of the Mark and they both knew it. 

The next strike hit him hard in the stomach, so that he sunk down to the floor and this time the horrible laugh was incredulous. “For God’s sake, _angel_ , how did you even make it here? That's all you got? The mighty warrior of God, the leader of the garrison, and now look at you. This is a _joke_. You are a joke.”

Castiel clenched his fists at his sides to fight the tears away. Why did these words hurt so much? Why did Dean still have so much power over him, even now, when he could clearly see that it was the demon talking? 

He didn’t even notice, that Dean had closed the distance between them until he got yanked up by his hair. He didn't try to fight it. He wasn’t strong enough. Not strong enough to subdue Dean. And he wouldn’t kill him. He couldn’t. So what was the sense in struggling? 

“Dean, let him go”, Sam shouted and the pressure on his scalp decreased as Dean’s attention turned back to his brother. The awful smile tugged at the corners of Dean’s mouth again. With a rough shove he pushed Castiel to the ground.  
“Stay where you are for a moment, my broken little angel. I’ll be coming back to you.”

He is gone. Dean is gone. Dean is no longer. Maybe it had needed this long to sink in. Maybe he had still hoped for a spark. For some brightness amidst the swirling dark. 

“ _Sammy_ ”, Dean casually strolled over a few steps towards Sam, not even caring enough about Castiel to keep an eye on him.  
“You have no right to call me that!” Sam's voice was broken and Castiel recognized the desperation. Sam had no plan, no hope of winning this fight. He was trying to give Cas an out. To give him enough time to either do something or zap out of here. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t kill Dean and he couldn’t leave Sam alone with him, either. 

“But I am still your brother, you know? I am still _Dean_. Remember this one day in September, when we played hide and seek in Bobby's junkyard and you climbed up on the big truck and I didn’t find you for two hours? I had to call Bobby to help. Oh, he was so angry. He even threatened to tell Dad. Of course that would only have gotten me in trouble. Always just me. Care for Sammy, Dean. Make sure Sammy doesn’t get hurt, Dean. Sammy is so smart, Dean, Sammy will get someplace in this world.”

Castiel could see Sam flinch. “You have no right. You. Have. No. Right.” But then something in him seemed to break and his voice changed: “Dean... please... come back.” He was literally begging. He had to know that it wouldn’t work but still the words kept flowing out of him. “Dean… please.”

Castiel knew he should be glad for the moment of reprieve, should try to formulate a plan. Or maybe try to run over to snatch Sam and get them both out of here. But he doubted he had the power to even zap them to the next room. And there was so much pain in Sam’s voice. So much pain. So he just tried to catch Sam’s gaze, one broken form on the floor to the other: “Don’t let him get to you. He is not your brother anymore.”

“You hear that, _Sammy_? You should listen to the _angel_. And I am really hurt. I always thought I was the important Winchester and here he’s trying to comfort _you_ on top of trying to save _you_.” Every word was like venom, injected directly into Castiel's veins.  
Dean knew his weakness, of course he knew it.  
Their profound bond made Castiel stay his hand, and the demon knew it.

“You are talking way too much, _demon_.” Castiel hissed and he tried to put force behind the words because this was all he got. There was no way out of this. He wanted to save Dean, he would give everything to save him, but in this moment he saw no other way. 

Killing Dean would haunt him forever, but given the state he was in forever might not be that long.  
If he could push back his human feelings long enough, if he could just let the warrior take over for a little while, then maybe he could at least save Sam. And saving Sam was something the real Dean would have wanted. 

He gritted his teeth against his weakness and pain and pulled himself up of the floor while draining the thoughts out of his mind. This was a battlefield. That was all that counted. Think like a soldier. Use what resources you got and find an opening. Any opening. 

“Now you want to fight? And here I just thought how _nice_ our little chat was. But I told you, you’re second. You’ll have to wait a moment longer. Won’t take long.” Dean flicked his hand and suddenly Castiel lost the ground under his feet that he had regained so painfully. The force of the blow knocked him into one of the shelves and he fell in a crumpled heap.

“Better”, Dean smiled. “Though I have to say, there is something to be said for hands-on combat. It is so much more satisfying. Don’t you think so, _Sammy_?”  
He turned back to Sam, who barely managed to lift his good arm in front of his face before Dean’s kick send him sprawling, knocking him a good three feet down the hall until the wall stopped his momentum. 

Castiel expected Sam to try to get back up, but there was no movement.  
“Sam!” Castiel screamed and a burst of adrenaline at the thought that Dean might have killed Sam gave him the energy to jump up, angel blade suddenly in his hand. 

He could feel the blood pumping, his legs moving, soldier’s instincts faster than conscious thought and he was running at Dean before he could throw him to the floor again.  
Dean didn’t even make any attempt for that, though, he just stood there and laughed, dodging effortlessly to the right at the last second. “I told you, you are too weak. You just don’t have it in you. Don’t have the juice. Or the will, for that matter.”

“Don't underestimate me”, Castiel growled and hurled himself at Dean.  
Maybe Dean hadn’t thought he’d actually do it. Maybe Dean had been too sure he could dodge any attack. But Castiel’s body made contact and the impact send both of them sprawling to the ground. He had the moment of surprise on his side and he ended up on top of Dean. He scrambled to regain his balance and keep Dean down at the same time. Scrambled to find an angle to bring down the angel blade. He had to be fast. Any second’s hesitation and the moment would be gone. 

_“I won't hurt Dean.” - “Yes, you will. You are!”_

Naomi’s voice resonated but the woman was dead. This was not the crypt. This was not Castiel being manipulated. This was not even Dean for God’s sake. Yes, he had saved him then. Yes, he had saved him every time. But he couldn’t think like that now. There was too much at stake. He couldn’t think like that.  
He couldn’t save him. He couldn’t. Not this time. He couldn’t.  
His thoughts slowed down.  
He couldn’t.  
Dean.  
He couldn’t hurt Dean.  
The angel blade clattered to the floor.  
He couldn’t.

White stars exploded in his head when Dean punched him hard in the face. He fell backwards and it was easy enough for Dean to turn the tables and pin Castiel down.  
Dean gripped his chin and pulled his face up, the abyss of blackness crinkling at the edges like Dean’s eyes had done when they betrayed their fondness for him. “I told you, _little angel_. I know you better than you know yourself. You _can't_ hurt me.” 

It was an odd mixture of cruelty and pleasure, and no matter how often Castiel told himself that this wasn't really Dean, it didn't help.  
He scrambled for something to say, anything that might get through to Dean. If there still was a Dean. But his mind came up blank. He had no words. Nothing he could say to him. Not now. Not here. 

Then a flash of pink and purple and blue stirred in his mind. Naomi. Naomi’s office. The crypt. If he didn’t have his own words, he had Dean’s. “Please... Dean.... We are family. …. We need you. … _I_ need you.”

Something in Dean's eyes flickered. The swirling blacks parted. There was a brightness underneath them. A spark. A flicker of Dean’s soul. And for a split second, Castiel believed he could see Dean, the real Dean, his eyes sad and lost. 

Then the moment was over.

“Nice try, _angel_.” Dean landed another punch and Castiel heard himself scream. Something had broken, and it was not just a bone.  
He held back the sob that wanted to work its way out of his chest, closed his eyes and waited. He wanted this nightmare to end. 

But there was nothing. No further impact. No punch. No knife. His angel blade lay right next to him. All Dean had to do was pick it up. That couldn’t take this long. He opened his eyes. Dean was looking down at him but he wasn’t moving.

“Just get it over with and kill me already”, he spat through gritted teeth.  
“Kill you? Why would I kill you right now? You amuse me, angel.”  
Not once Dean had said his name, Castiel noticed and nearly laughed because why the hell did he notice that right now? And why did it stir something like hope inside him? 

“I like to be amused, _angel_. Where would be the _fun_ in killing you _now_? No, that would be no fun at all.” Demon-eyes looking right into his eyes.  
“Dean...” That was the only thing he could manage to say, the only thought that was left in him.  
The demon rested a hand on Castiel’s face, an almost tender caress. 

And it was all he could do not to lean into the touch. He hated himself for it, hated himself for this weakness. But the hand was warm and it was Dean where the eyes were not and he couldn’t help it. Dean called him angel but he was human. He was so human and he couldn’t help the feelings he had for this men who taunted him, played with him like a cat with his prey. 

And in this moment he understood something else. He had known that he loved Dean. Had known it for a long time, even if he hadn’t found the words for it before Metatron had killed Dean. Before Castiel’s world had crumbled and the grief had overwhelmed his will to live. 

But he still hadn’t understood it. Not the way he understood it now in this moment when he craved the touch of a vessel that had no more than a spark of its original owner in it. When he’d take even that. Because it was better than nothing. Because it was better than being completely without him.

Love. Human love. He loved Dean.

“I’ll see you soon, _angel_.”  
A blow hit Castiel so hard that his world turned dark.


	2. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashes of memories returned to Castiel, black eyes, darkness, a grimace, a twisted soul - Dean.

Awaking was awful. His head hurt like hell and the light was way too bright. The smell of sulphur still lay in the air and made his stomach flip. He wondered how long he had been out.  
“Thank God, you are awake!” he heard a familiar voice saying and he looked in the worried face of Sam.  
“What happened?” Castiel asked confused, while he tried to get up but his feet just gave in.  
“Careful there. I think _he_ got you pretty bad.” There was sadness in Sam's voice as he pushed Castiel softly back on the floor. 

Flashes of memories returned to Castiel, black eyes, darkness, a grimace, a twisted soul - _Dean_.  
“Where... where is he?” he finally managed to ask and Sam shrugged.  
“I don't know. When I woke up, he was gone. I just got up a few minutes before... when I saw you ….” Sam paused, checking Castiel again as if he couldn't really believe that he actually was there. “Cas, for a moment I thought you were gone.”  
“I am sorry.”  
“Don't be. It's not your fault.... I am glad you are here.”

Sam gave him a weak smile and Castiel couldn't help but return it.  
“Thank you, Sam. But I really don't want to stay here. The smell... I just can't stand it.”  
Sam just nodded. “I understand.” With that Sam got on arm under him and together they managed to get into one of the bedrooms. 

Breathing heavily, Castiel sat down on the bed and laid back. He knew that Sam was still there. He should pull himself together and keep the front up for Sam. If there was anyone who had a right to feel miserable, it was Sam. But Castiel couldn't help it. So tired. So much pain. 

He closed his eyes and allowed himself a few moments. He was all but useless. He shouldn't have come here in the first place. He had known it and still he had done it.  
Wrong choices. So many wrong decisions.

“What is wrong with you, Cas? Is it your grace?” Sam asked. Smart kid, always was, Castiel had to give him that. Never underestimate Sam Winchester and his brain. Of course he had figured it out on his own. It was easier this way, to just tell him what he should have long ago.

“Yes. It's the grace”, he couldn’t bring himself to call it ‘my grace’. It wasn’t. It was just something he had stolen. “It's burning me out from the inside. Not long now and I am nothing but a broken shell.” Castiel sighed and opened his eyes again, searching for Sam’s eyes. The young Winchester stood in the middle of the room and he looked so tired. 

When was the last time he had allowed himself to sleep? When was the last time he had gotten a little rest? He really didn’t want to add to the load on Sam’s shoulders. 

“Is there nothing we can do?”, Sam wanted to know and Castiel shook his head.  
“Technically there is, but it's not an option at all.”  
“Tell me nevertheless?” Sam took a step forward and sat down at the chair on the side of the bed.  
“As I said, it's not an option, Sam. So there is no use in telling you.” Castiel explained tiredly. “Please, Cas. Tell me. I need to know.” 

Another sigh left Castiel. “I would have to get another grace, I would have to rip it out of another angel, because which angel would be insane enough to give it to me? Even giving it freely they’d fall… and me ripping it out… I’d have to kill them. I killed the one I got this grace from. No, Sam. I won’t do it again. I won't do that to any other angel. It's one of the most important rules, angels have. Never touch the grace of another angel. Never. And look what I've done. And for what again? For what? Tell me, Sam, was this all worth it?”  
There was no hope left anymore. He couldn't hold himself back, he just couldn't lie anymore.

He was sick of lying, sick of this mess, sick of being nothing but a burden, a mistake, a failure. 

“You did what you had to do.”, Sam answered with a sad smile on his face: “Like I did. I did pretty horrible things to get to Dean. I did a lot of things I regret. But I guess that's the Winchester's way. Doing the worst with the best intentions.”

“Don't be too harsh on yourself, Sam. Sometimes good intentions are the only thing that matters. We try, we fail, we try it again. Don't we?” clinging to hope, that was what Castiel did. He couldn't stand to see Sam that way, so hopeless, broken and lost. He had to try to stay positive for the sake of both of them. He had to try to reassure not only Sam but also himself that they will work it out. He just had to. 

“Yeah... I guess.” Sam said flatly: “But it feels so final this time. Did you see what he did? What Dean is now? He... is not _my_ brother anymore.” There was so much hurt in his voice that Castiel almost winced. 

A flash of light. Castiel had seen it, he had seen behind the grimace, he had seen that Dean was not completely lost. With the little hope he had in him, with everything that still was in him dreaming and wishing he held on to that little second, to the flicker, where he had seen Dean, the true Dean. 

And he forced everything he got from this split moment into his next sentence: “He is still in there, Sam. Believe me. I saw him. He is still there. There is a way. Somehow. And we will find it.”

A sad smile on Sam's face and a resigned answer: “I wish you were right. I wish I could believe in that.”  
Castiel felt suddenly very tired, felt the exhaustion taking over. But he couldn't let go. Not yet anyway.  
“ _Sam_.” The younger Winchester smiled at him with this worried and tired look. “I know it is hard. You miss your brother. Hell, I miss him. Don't lose faith, we will figure it out. We will.”

And somehow Castiel believed every single word he said. They would figure it out. Like they always had. He made another decision right in this moment, because he was sick of all the self-pity, all this waiting for something to happen, for lying there and doing nothing. He had to act, he had to do something. Yet he had no idea what. Maybe a little rest would do him good, maybe he would be able to think about it after he actually slept a few hours. 

“I hope you are right, Cas. I want my brother back more than anything else in this world. I just... I don't know. I am not sure he even knows how much he means to me.” Desperation was written all over Sam's face, exhaustion and tiredness.

“He knows, Sam. And to be true, I think you should allow yourself to rest for a while, you look like you haven't slept for days. Tomorrow morning, we will start digging.”  
“Yeah, you are probably right. You look horrible too, by the way.”

Castiel couldn't help but laugh. They were both pretty messed up but there was hope too. Slim and hardly to see, but they both hadn't stopped fighting. Perhaps they both were despaired, but for both of them Dean meant so much. He was family after all. And even more for Castiel. The human he had fallen for in every way imaginable. 

“You are right, Sam. I could use a little rest.”, Castiel finally retorted and Sam nodded: “Well, see you in the morning then?”  
“See you in the morning!”, Castiel managed a weak smile: “And... thank you.”  
“Nothing to thank for, Cas... and I am glad you are here.”, with that Sam closed the door behind him and left Cas alone in the room, which suddenly felt much bigger.

Knowing that he was not alone on this anymore helped, but still he felt like he had loaded another burden onto Sam by being here. On the other side he knew that they had the same goal, the same mission. Saving Dean Winchester.  
With this thought in his mind Castiel drifted into sleep.

***

“Don't step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish.”, Gabriel says to him and curiosity floats his whole body as he looks at the little fish-thing that climbs out of the water with a lot of effort. “What plans, Gabe?”, he asks because he wants to know what that fish could potential achieve.  
It looks so helpless, clumsy and there doesn't seem to be anything special with it. Gabriel laughs and bets his brother on the shoulder: “You will see, Cassie. You will see.”  
Castiel glares at Gabriel: “You know that I hate that nickname.” That makes Gabriel just laughing more: “Yes. That's the only reason, I use it.”

Castiel turns his attention back to the fish. But there is no fish anymore. Before him stands a human. Someone important, he knows that. He feels it in his bones. This human will be important for him in more than one way.

“The righteous man.”, Uriel states.  
Dean Winchester.  
“We have to save him.”  
Castiel knows that this is his mission. That he has to get to Dean first. That this will change everything. 

A smile like the sunrise, green eyes radiating with fondness, a soul so bright it makes Castiel forget for a moment his mission when he sees it.  
Even when it's twisted, he can see how beautiful it is. How beautiful Dean Winchester is.  
He feels something inside him changing when he touches his shoulder. He can feel the connection, a bond that is formed in this action.  
“I am the one to save you, Dean Winchester.”

***

When Castiel awoke his mind was filled with confusion. He started at the ceiling, trying to remember. The bunker, the room where Sam brought him. Memories were coming slowly back to him. He exhaled the breath he wasn't aware that he had hold. Closing his eyes again he thought about what happened in his sleep.  
A dream. What he just experienced had to have been a dream. A strange feeling to dream like humans. Such a strange feeling seeing all those long lost moments.

But this dream was more. It was memories, it was his past and in one way, also his future.  
 _“I am the one to save you, Dean Winchester.”_  
He had saved Dean in so many ways, in the same and yet different ways Dean had saved him.  
With his smile, with his touches, with his words, with how he showed him to chose free will, what it means to life and decide. And most important, what it means to feel. To fall for one person. To figure it out what it means to love someone. To love him unconditionally, with all of his faults and little mistakes. To love him no matter what comes, no matter what the future brings. To love until it almost hurts. To love even when he turns into something completely differently, even when there is hardly anything left of the person you felt for in the first play.

But Dean was still there, somewhere. He had seen it. He had seen that Dean was not entirely lost, he had seen that he was still in there, somehow and that was enough for him to keep going.

In this moment, Castiel made another choice.  
He swore to himself, that he would find a way to save Dean, that this was the most important task at his hand now. The grace could wait. Heaven could wait.  
Because everything that had ever mattered in his life had to do with Dean. Because he would fight for the person he fell for, the one men he loved unconditionally.


	3. What's lost and what's to find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Searching for a way to save Dean Winchester.

Castiel found Sam leaning over a few books in the library. He looked exhausted and Castiel doubted that the younger Winchester had slept at all. 

Sam looked up when he heard him enter the room and a small smile appeared on his face.   
“Cas... you are awake.” 

Castiel nodded and came the few steps over to Sam. “What are we looking for?” he asked.   
Sam shot him a surprised glance that Castiel chose to ignore. They had enough problems already and he didn't want to talk about his fading grace. 

“Well, this is a book about demons. I am looking it over again to see if I can find hints about the Knights of Hell. But so far I haven't had much luck”, Sam explained.   
The angel looked at Sam, his face full of worries and sorrow. 

“You should try to sleep, Sam”, Castiel remarked.  
Sam smiled a sad little smile. “Yeah. I wish I could. It’s just that...” Words failed him and he shrugged.

Castiel watched Sam for a moment. Then he nodded. His need for sleep was very recent, but he got it. “Dean is lucky to have you as a brother. He knows it, too.” 

There was a question in Sam’s eyes and he opened his mouth as if to ask something, but then he just nodded curtly. 

“We’ll get him back, Sam. We will.” He didn’t know whether it was true, but he was hell-bent on trying, anyway. Even though as an angel, he probably shouldn’t be hell-bent. Castiel tried not to think to much about it, still this was how far he’d come.

“Thanks, Cas. I am glad you are here. Cause I really don't know what else I can do... you know, I tried to cure him before you showed up. Obviously it didn't work.” Bitter sarcasm found his way into Sam’s voice. “I guess you need more to cure a Knight of Hell than a simple blood ritual and brotherly love.” 

“I am sorry, Sam”, Cas’ heart hurt at the defeated tone in Sam’s voice. “I wish I knew the answer.” He had millennia of knowledge, though a lot of it was fuzzy from the times Naomi had blocked his memories. But still, there had to be something useful there. “I will stay and help as much as I can.”

A small nod and Sam exhaled: “Let's start working then.”

***

They spend a week together scanning through the books. Sometimes they talked about the things they went through, sometimes they didn't talk for hours.   
It was a good feeling to have a friend, Castiel thought.   
He’d never thought about Sam too much. He was Dean’s brother, of course, but he’d never seen him as his own person, really. Now he noticed that he shared a bond with Sam, too. A bond that was very clearly very different from what he shared with Dean. But a bond that was important to him, nonetheless.

On the eighth day, Sam broke the silence after what seemed like an eternity of silent reading.   
“Garth called me.”

Castiel looked up, waiting for Sam to continue. 

“He said that he got word that angels are looking for you. He says, that they are afraid that you might be dead.” 

“Hannah...” Castiel immediately knew. She was his only friend in the garrison after all. And he had completely forgotten about her. No wonder the other angels scorned him, seeing how easily he forgot them for the sake of Dean.

“Who is Hannah?” Sam’s voice broke his thoughts.

Castiel took a deep breath. So many things unexplained, so many things he had hidden. “A friend”, he finally answered. 

“An angel friend?” Sam inquired and Castiel nodded. 

“Yes. She helped me before. She’s – she must be the one looking for me. I didn't exactly tell her that I was going to leave.” 

In fact, he had just disappeared on her. Going after a demon on his own. No, going after a Knight of Hell. No wonder she thought he might have ended up dead. He shook his head. It was not right. Not right to leave her like this. She was his friend, she deserved at least this much. “

I am so sorry, Sam. But I think I have to contact her. And…”, he swallowed through the lump that had formed in his throat, “to reach her I have to pray to her. If I do that here, she’ll know where you are. I want you safe, Sam. I want this place safe. I want this place angel-free. Just in case that…”

“That Dean comes back”, Sam finished his sentence for him.

Castiel nodded tightly. It was a long shot, but this had been Dean’s home. Part of him probably remembered that. 

“So you don’t trust her? Is that why haven't you told me about her?” 

“I’m telling you now”, he said with a frown. “It didn’t seem important before. And I trust her. I do. Just not with…”

“Dean.” Sam finished for him again.

Castiel nodded. Why was it so hard today to say Dean’s name?

Sam shrugged. “Do what you have to do, then.”

“I will come back here. I promise. And if you hear anything about Dean, please call me.”

Castiel turned around to leave the room when Sam touched his shoulder: “Cas! Wait!” 

Castiel turned around confused. 

“You really think you can leave without a goodbye?” Sam hugged him. 

This time, Castiel hugged back. 

“Take care, okay? We’re the only two left.” Sam said after he let go, his big hand still resting on Castiel's shoulder and the angel nodded sagely. 

“You take care, too, Sam, you take care, too.”

***

It was strange to be on the road again, but also a refreshing difference to the bunker. A feeling of freedom and possibilities. Castiel hated to leave Sam behind, but he knew that he had to tell Hannah that he was okay. 

One disadvantage of being on the road was that he became aware again of how weak he really was. In the bunker, where he didn’t have to do more than walk a few steps between the kitchen and the library, and maybe the occasional visit to Dean’s room when Sam was asleep, he had been able to ignore his fading grace.   
And Sam had done him the favor to ignore it, too.   
Maybe because the Winchesters understood all too well how it gnawed on you when you felt powerless and useless.   
But on the road, Castiel’s whole body felt heavy. Like it was too much work to move his foot from the gas to the breaks. 

Castiel decided that it might be best when he drove for just as long as was necessary to be at a safe distance from the bunker and then immediately found a hotel room where he could pray to Hannah. There was no reason to go back the whole way to the cabin, and this way he could be faster back at the bunker to help Sam, too.

Of course, they hadn’t found anything in the books. Anything at all that could help them. But they had stacks of books still that they hadn’t sorted through. And he could read the languages that Sam couldn’t read. So he had to get back. Because he was not willing to lose hope. He would save Dean, no matter the costs.

He drove a few more hours before he found a small motel. It was late at night by then. He should ignore the urges of his vessel’s body and call Hannah immediately. With his angelic power, it would have been so easy. Just feed a bit of grace into the body and keep going.   
But now, he had no grace to feed to the body. He sank down heavily on the bed. A few hours would make little difference. He might as well sleep and hope that some of this weariness would be washed away. 

He might as well. If he was lucky, he might even dream of Dean. 

*** 

Castiel knew that something was wrong in the moment he woke. There was someone in the room with him. Weary or not, his angel blade was in his hand in the snap of a moment. Only then did he reach for the light switch behind his head. 

“Ah, Castiel, you are finally awake. You are such a beauty when sleeping. Are you sure that fairy tale isn’t about you?”   
Not a trace of fear at the sight of the angel blade, the man in the chair next to his bed chuckled at his own joke. 

“Crowley”, Castiel growled. 

The King of Hell laughed delightedly: “You remember me! It was my pretty face, wasn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Castiel demanded harshly. He had no time or patience for dealings with the King of Hell.

“Now, now, what’s with the hurry?” Crowley admonished. “When I actually have a proposal that might work out to our mutual benefit. Or do you not want to save your _boyfriend_?”

“My... what?” Castiel stumbled over the words. 

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Oh my, Castiel, you’re an angel, you gotta keep up that no carnal desires yada yada, I get it, but really… I’m not that naïve.” He sighed heavily: “Alright, let’s do this again. Do you not want to save your precious _righteous man_ called Dean Winchester?”

“Why would you want to help me save him?” Castiel finally let the angel blade sink. This confused him. “Isn’t he one of yours now?”

Crowley broke into hysterical laughing fit: “One of mine? Now _that_ was a good one. What? Wait! Why aren’t you laughing?”   
Suddenly Crowley was serious again: “Have you really not heard? The asshole is killing randomly. Angels. Demons. He doesn’t care. Whoever comes too close to him, blam. I can't control him. I don’t think anyone can.”

“So why do you want to save him? Why not try to kill him?”

“Think, angel. Not even you are _that_ stupid.” The King of Hell had talked himself into a frenzy, but now he fell back into his chair again. 

“You tried”, Castiel ventured. 

“Yes yes, of course I tried. And?” Crowley urged him on.

“And you failed. You failed but Dean knows that you tried to kill him”, Castiel’s thoughts were picking up speed. “So now he’s coming after you, too.” 

Crowley clapped a slow mocking applause: “See, I knew you could figure it out. Alright then, can we talk business now? You do want to save him, don’t you?”

Castiel didn’t have to think about that, but he was wary of Crowley. Deals with hell never went over well. “Why did you come to me? Why not go to Sam first? Isn’t he the logical choice?”

“Oh you sweet innocent baby”, Crowley shook his head, rolled is eyes and counted clearly annoyed on his fingers. 

“One, I have no idea where Sam is. He isn’t on my radar. Which probably means he’s in his super-  
secret bunker that everyone knows about but hey Two: said bunker is warded. I can’t get in. And Three,” and now Crowley leaned forward and shouted at him: “Because this is fucking something only you can do. I am not stupid, you stupid -” 

He broke off to take a deep breath. “Well, anyway, I’m guessing it’s not necessarily you who has to do this. Any angel would do. But I’m pretty sure you are the only one, who might actually be willing to do it.”

“Alright?” Castiel answered insecurely. “I will hear you out.”

Crowley groaned but he nodded: “Well, thank you, my friend, for your gracious will to let me tell you how to heal your lov-, I mean, your precious human. It is pretty simple, actually. You will have to use your grace. You will have to find him. I might actually be able to help you with that part. I run a pretty tidy shop. I can locate him. Anyway, you will have to purify him. And seeing the state you’re in”, Crowley gestured up and down Castiel’s body with a disgusted frown, “I’m guessing you will need this.”

Crowley took a small jar out of his jacket and held it out to him.

Castiel immediately knew what it was. An angel’s grace. Not an undamaged grace, by the looks of it, but still. It was more than he had left.   
“Where did you...?” Castiel wanted to ask but he couldn't finish.

“Oh come on, don't get emotional on me. The angel is already dead, so it would be a waste to spill the grace down the drain. And you, my friend, are dying. Rapidly. So this angel’s death could save you. For a while at least.” 

The King of Hell threw the jar at Castiel, who’s heart stopped for a moment when he saw the precious jar tumbling through the air. He didn’t even think he could move that fast anymore, but he caught the jar safely. He held it gingerly. The grace inside pulsed slightly, its blue light dampened by the glass, its purity tarnished by the death of its owner. 

Another angel dead. Another brother he lost. Who was it this time? Who else had to give his life?

He wanted to say a short prayer. Something to mourn the loss of a brother. But he couldn’t. Not if he didn’t want to alert other angels to his location. He gritted his teeth. And he didn’t want to alert them. 

Because this, wrong as it was, this was a way to buy himself a little time. He hated himself for it, but he knew Crowley was right. He needed more time. He needed to be stronger. He needed to save Dean. He needed to save Dean.   
His decision was already made.

“What do I have to do?”

****

Crowley was long gone when Castiel finally found the courage to pray to Hannah. 

The foreign grace was burning inside him, filling him with strength and life, this borrowed time so wrong and yet so bright. But the clock was already ticking.

“Castiel!” Hannah smiled brightly, obviously relieved, when she appeared in the middle of the room. 

Castiel smiled sadly: “Yes, Hannah, it's me.”

“Where have you been? I was worried...” Hannah stopped abruptly, relieved smile fading fast: “You.... got a new grace.”

Castiel nodded. When he saw Hannah’s frown, he held his hands out in front of him. “I did not murder for it, in case that is what you are thinking. But I need it to rescue Dean Winchester.”

That obviously did nothing for Hannah’s mood, as her frown deepened: “Are you serious? That is still what you are thinking about? I don't get it. You still want to save him? He can’t be saved. Dean Winchester is lost. By now, even you should see that.”

“He can be saved. I know it”, countered Castiel calmly. He could see the fury rising in Hannah. Something about all this made her really angry. But it mattered not. His course was set. 

“How? Tell me! How would you save him? And why would you even want to? He is a demon! An _abomination_!”

No, it mattered not. It mattered not to his actions, but it did hurt. She was his friend. And she didn’t even try to understand. He sighed. He’d give it one last try. He owed it to her. She had come when he called after all. She was the only angel who was still truly on his side, who cared.

“You are my friend, Hannah, though I don't think that you will understand. Not yet, anyway. You haven’t lived down here long enough. Maybe someday. Maybe someday you'll find someone who is as important to you as Dean is to me. You’ll know it in your heart when you find them. You’ll know that this is what Father wanted for you. I –“, he hesitated but then he shrugged and ploughed on. It made no difference anymore, “I rebelled for him. I fell for him. And I know you disapprove. I know that free will means nothing to you. But I believe that it means something to our Father. I believe he wanted the humans to have it for a reason. And I believe that he put Dean in my path for a reason. I can’t let him go, Hannah. I can’t. So I’ll save him or I’ll die trying. Either way, Hannah, this is good-bye. I am glad that you have been my friend. I hope you will find happiness in Heaven or on Earth.” 

Castiel could see how the realisation hit Hannah. The outrage changed into disbelief and finally into a stunned sort of denial.

“You can't... Castiel... You want to sacrifice yourself for a _demon_?”

“No, Hannah, you got it all wrong,” Castiel shook his head. “I will sacrifice myself for Dean Winchester. There is a difference.”

“But … we need you, Castiel! I need you.”

Castiel smiled sadly. A long time ago, Dean had said exactly the same words to him. A long time ago, these words broke the spell that Naomi had put on him. A long time ago, these words were everything he needed. 

But not now. Not from Hannah. 

“You will do well without me. You don't really need me”, Castiel answered and his smile was encouraging now. ”You can lead them. You were always better at it than me, anyway. They will help you. The one who needs me is Dean. Like I need him. This is the way it is supposed to be, Hannah. It is not easy, but I believe firmly that it is God’s plan.”

Hannah shook her head, but he could see that she knew that she had lost him. That there was no way to keep him from doing what he had to do: “I will miss you, Castiel.”

With that, she vanished. The room was silent and he was left on his own. Somehow, he wished he could say his goodbyes to Sam, too, but he was sure that Sam wouldn't let him go as soon as he discovered his plan. The Winchesters were way too stubborn for him to get away with things the same way he just did with Hannah.

But there was something he could do. Not only for Sam. But also for Dean and for himself.  
All he needed was a pen, a piece of paper and a short trip to Garth. Crowley had said to him that his grace would fade out quickly, he only had a few hours until he would be too weak to actually do what he had to do. But there was enough time for this. And then he would save Dean. Even when it meant that he would lose his life.

Castiel was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I want to thank my awesome co-author MashiarasDream who makes everything better that I write and who writes beautiful storys herself. Without her this series hadn't grown in the way it had, and hadn't she taken my prompt it wouldn't even exist, so thank you, MashiarasDream, thank you so so much! (I am still very glad I liked your tumblrpost. :)


End file.
